New World
by silverbootlegger
Summary: After recieving not one, but two invitations to two different magic schools, Harry discovers an aunt he never thought he had, and the dark secret that she holds. AU, Different schools, Grey Harry


**Because I couldn't help it. Here is a new story. I don't know how often I will add on to this. Nevertheless, please enjoy.**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Harry Potter eyed the two letters his aunt disapprovingly chucked at him. Not wasting any time, he grabbed them from the floor and jogged to his room, pretending not to hear his aunt's reprimand of running inside the house.

Despite being raised in the Dursley household all his present life, Harry could not help but feel cold indifference towards his relatives. While he might be appreciative of their reluctant care for him, he works for them just as well to pull his own weight. 'If only I don't owe them anything,' Harry thinks to himself. Aunt Petunia may be his aunt, but he feels no familial love towards her, or her husband and child. Still, he can't help but wish that he was a bit closer to his relatives. Then again, it could have been worse. He could have been neglected and treated as a slave and pushed around by everyone, like in one of the shows in the telly that Aunt Petunia always watched.

Sitting down on his soft bed, he examined the two letters his aunt gave him. One was an envelope of parchment paper with the words on the back written in emerald ink.

 _Mr. H. Potter_

 _The Smallest Bedroom_

 _4 Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging, Surrey_

He opened that one first.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_  
 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_  
 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_  
 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._  
 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._  
 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_  
 _Deputy Headmistress_

'Await my owl? And magic? Really?' Harry snorted and tossed the letter aside. 'Crazy people…'

He took the other letter and his eyes widened. He nearly dropped the letter upon seeing the name, and with his heart thudding in his ears, he ripped the envelope open in a rush and read the contents.

 _Peverell Academy of Magic_

 _Dear Mr Potter,_

 _It is with great enthusiasm that we would like to inform you of your acceptance to Peverell Academy of Magic. With this letter, you will find an extra page detailing necessary supplies for the duration of the year. Should you wish to accept our offer, simply lay your dominant hand on this letter and recite "I accept". If you wish to speak to a representative regarding questions and concerns you would like to address, you can lay your dominant hand on this letter and recite "I wish to speak to a representative". If you wish to decline due to prior arrangements, simply recite "I decline". We will accept all confirmations no later than August 1._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Iris Potter_

 _Headmistress_

He swallowed, feeling a slight elation. His aunt handed to him rather than throwing these letters out; they must be real then! Although, a letter about magic schools are rather a bit barmy. Rolling his eyes, Harry placed his right hand on the page and said, "I wish to speak to a representative."

He snorted and stood, wanting to talk to his aunt about the letter from this "Iris Potter" and whether she's real or not.

Then the doorbell rang. Sighing, Harry got up and walked to the living room. He knew he shouldn't expect anyone else to open the door. It's always been him to open the door, no matter who the Dursleys were expecting. The doorbell rang again, and Harry passed by his aunt who was pretending to be busy arranging flowers into a vase. He opened the door, and was faced with a shockingly familiar face.

Harry stared at the woman who had the same messy hair (although hers was stylishly messy), and identical green eyes. She wore square glasses, that seemed to be the same grade as Harry's round ones. She looked down at him, adjusting her glasses.

"You requested for a representative?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, pleased to meet you, Harry James Potter. I am Iris Potter, your half-aunt, although in this case, I am a representative of the school you are interested in, as well as the headmaster."

She shook his hand firmly, and although her palm feels as cold as Aunt Petunia's attitude, he can feel a degree of warmth from the woman.

Speaking of Aunt Petunia, she walks in, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. As soon as she lays an eye on Iris, something akin to understanding flashed in her eyes, but was quickly replaced with contempt.

"Here to take the boy away now, are you."

"Hello Petunia, you look well. How's Vernon and Dudley?" Iris answered pleasantly.

"Just take him already", Petunia snapped.

"Oh no, i'm just here to answer and questions he might have.."

"How come I have never seen you before?"

Both women glanced at him, then at each other. Both shrugged.

"You never asked," Aunt Petunia said.

"I forgot," Iris Potter admitted.

Harry Potter glared and shook his head.

"Oh, and I guess I'm here to inquire whether or not you would apply Dudley to my school as well," the other Potter asked. Harry's mouth dropped open. Dudley, go to the same school he was invited in? No. Just no. Dudley may be tolerable at home, where his parents can see him, but the boy is the very definition of peer pressure when in school. Surrounded by his friends, he becomes a terrible bully who pushes younger kids around just to impress his friends. He pushed Harry around as well, but not to the same extent, because Dudley knows his mother will know and yell at him.

"No," Aunt Petunia said. "As much as I would like to, Dudley prefers going to his father's old school. There's also the fact that… that they don't know of, or like magic. Staying in the mundane world would be a better choice for Dudley."

"What?" Harry asked. "Magic? It's not real, is it?"

"Don't be daft Harry, of course it's real," Iris said, chuckling. "You are a wizard."

Petunia looked rather uncomfortable, but she added in, "Yes, it is very real. Your mother had magic in her, just as you do."

"Why did you not tell me?"

"You never asked…"

Harry was ready to tear his hair out. "I shouldn't have to ask!"

Iris looked back and forth between Aunt Petunia and Harry, and turned to make herself at home.

It might take a while for the two to reconcile.

* * *

Hermione Granger felt conflicted. On one hand, she was surprised and excited about discovering a whole new world of people like her, special and full of new things. On the other hand, she now has two schools to choose from, and it is proving to be a difficult choice to make.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry certainly has the flair and welcoming aura to it that picked at her interest and gravitated her to the wonders of magic. She could imagine herself enjoying herself, and making many friends that are so much like her, and in Hogwarts, she wouldn't have to be the outlier, the different girl, the one no one would approach. It also helped that an actual school representative had come and delivered the letter by hand and turned their couch into a pig to convince her and her family, and even took them around Diagon Alley, where she was able to experience the Wizarding world at its finest.

Then there was Peverell Academy, that sent an acceptance letter, a paper listing necessary requirements, and a booklet explaining the classes she could take and introducing the staff. The school itself has an intimidatingly competitive aura, if the five whole pages listing all available scholarships and grants were anything to go by. It spurned her competitive nature, and she knew she would very much excel in this school, even if she might not make many, or even any, friends.

Choices, choices…

Laying back on her bed, Hermione decided, that maybe, it's best to sleep it off and worry about it in the morning.

* * *

Ron Weasley wasn't feeling quite hungry anymore, even if his breakfast wasn't even half-eaten yet. Every year, the same two letters have been delivered to his house that had stirred a quiet sort of resentment between his family members. And now, one of them will be addressed to him.

That morning, just like every morning since the letters had come for Charlie in his first year, was a quiet, tense start. All of the Weasleys knew that the letter would be arriving at any minute now, and with his mom's tense shoulders, and his father's unbreaking stare, they are dreading what his decision will be. Percy ate, ignoring the tense silence, while Fred and George whispered to each other. Ginny, who didn't quite understand why everyone was always tense when the letters came, stayed quiet, unwilling to break the silence.

In his family, only Charlie and graduated from Peverell Academy so far, and he left, without a word to any of them, to Romania. Between the long letters he sent to each of them, Ron often wondered what his brother would have been like if he went to Hogwarts instead. With the long monthly messages Charlie sends the family, Ron is fully aware that his brother does love all of them. But, he couldn't help but feel that Charlie had intentionally left them, or he dared to think, abandoned them.

Ron had no qualm that that Peverell Academy is a good school, in fact, it rivalled Hogwarts in its success rates. But, it was the school that pushed a wedge between his brother and his parents, with a petty argument about expense that escalated to a full row between family about gratitude and respect.

It wasn't like his parents are against the school. In fact, Percy is attending the same school at the moment, his education entirely funded by a scholarship he applied for, and Fred and George initially entered the school, but transferred to Hogwarts on their second year because they knew more people in Hogwarts (they were rather social people, and the Academy was somewhat too bland and strict for them, even if they did excel in their courses). He even heard about an squib uncle of his who taught at the school. It was their argument with Charlie that painted a negative picture of the school to his parents.

Deep in thought, he nearly missed the owl that flew in with the letters for his family. He retrieved his letters, and read both of them, feeling rather nervous of his parents' stare.

After reading both letters, he settled them down on the table, and met his dad's eyes.

"I…"

* * *

Neville Longbottom sweat nervously under his grandmother's unwavering stare. In his hand, he held a crumpled letter. In her hand was a smooth, unopened Hogwarts letter. She haven't said anything yet, but Neville could feel the disappointment in his grandmother's stare. He couldn't bare to look at her. But at the same time, he did not regret his actions.

He had heard a lot of bad things about Peverell Academy. He had heard from his grandmother's acquaintances, his great uncles and aunts, the children he was forced to communicate with in his youth. He had heard about its rigorous training program, the inconceivable amount of muggleborns, and squibs, and half-creatures, and foreigners the school allows in its halls. He had heard so many whispered insults regarding its staff and headmaster, about how she lived off of the Potter name, and how she created her connections with money that was not hers, with the name she flaunts around, and with her femininity.

But it does not matter to him.

Because even if the school is looked down upon, even if it was flawed, even if it was built by a fraud who slept her way into everyone's pockets, no one could deny the results.

Everyone, pureblood or halfblood have heard of Dave Cresswell, the son of the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, and partner of Hogwarts Alumni William Weasley in cursebreaking, but he was more famously known for having discovered an ancient burial grounds for the goblin race. There was Vesta Bloom, the Captain of the Quidditch team Ballycastle Bats, who led the team to five League Cups and onto breaking the record of Tutshill Tornadoes nearly a century before. Who could forget the Lockhart sisters who were squibs, Gemma, who established the first theatre in Britain, and has since produced performances that received high praise, even from purebloods, and Geneva, who had created a line of fashion wear for high society purebloods.

These were only few of the people who had forged on through seven or more grueling years in Peverell and came out successful. Neville had seen the results, and he knew, if he enters the Academy, he will have the chance to become a better person, a better heir, a better Longbottom. Peverell Academy will accept him, and it will change him into a person his family will be proud of even if he is almost a squib.

That is why, without telling his grandmother, he had pressed his dominant hand into the acceptance letter, and said the words he could not take back (at least for a year).

"I accept."

* * *

 _ **Down Memory Lane - Fleamont Potter meets Iris Potter for the first time**_

She appeared before him on the day his wife was giving birth to their long-awaited child. She was a child, no older than five, but she spoke to him with the conviction of someone his age. She had a head of messy black hair, quite similar to his own, but the glittering emerald eyes that reminded him of the killing curse. With her looks, and the undeniable quality if her clothes, it was obvious that she's a pureblood.

"I need your help."

She had told him that she was his granddaughter from the future. He was ready to call for nurses to either throw her out of St Mungo's or into a room at the fourth floor when she jumped and grabbed the sides of his head, and stared deep into his eyes, muttering under her breath. He fell to his knees.

Fleamont nearly choked out of breath when images and events he never would have believed happened entered his mind, not expecting the assault. His eyes rolled back at the sheer amount of scenes he was seeing in that split of a second-memories, his overloaded brain thought up. It was over in a couple of seconds, but it felt like he was deprived of air for five minutes, and he wheezed in a deep gulp of air. Clutching his throat, he glared at the girl.

"Wh-cough- What did you do to me?"

The girl answered with furrowed eyebrows. "I shared some of my memories with you. I was hoping that it would be an acceptable introduction to who I am before I actively follow you around and continuously prove I am what I say I am."

Fleamont felt warm liquid drip down from his nose, and saw blood on on his robe. "What kind of spell was that?"

"It was a legilimency spell I stole from Unspeakables of my time. It's rather convenient, is it not?"

Fleamont whipped his wand out and pointed it threateningly at the girl. "A fraud and a thief! I may be on leave, but I am still an auror, girl. Surrender yourself!"

The girl simply smiled. "You may be an accomplished duelist, Mr Fleamont Potter, but so am I."

With a swish of her cloak, she disappeared, narrowly avoiding a well-aimed stunner.

A second after she disappeared, he heard a whisper in his ear.

"I am not your enemy, Grandfather. I will be back, and I will prove my genuinity."

* * *

 **Well, that's it for now. I hope you all enjoyed. Please leave a review to show what you think of it. Thanks.**


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